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of corruption it unites all those who bear it, from the most vicious of
Freehand Raiders to those who struggle to kill only once or twice a year.
"To be a killer is to be joined to the kill.Junct. Each of us must break free
of this bond, Zeth. We must becomedisjuncted! Yes, that's the right word for
it."
"But why make up a new word?"
"The word is the symbol for the thing. Most Simes can't perceive the thing
itself. I could not until my injury left me oversensitive for a while. I " He
glanced over at Zeth and seemed to come back from a far distance. "Zeth, what
I want you to understand is that our faith doesn't claim to make life easy.
But by putting our trust in God, we find the effort of living becomes
tremendously worthwhile. Owen is a treasure in our community. Thanks to your
efforts, he has found a purpose in life. You did this for him, and for our
whole community, when you put your trust in God."
They were crossing the wooden bridge to the road through the small town,
riding toward Slina's pen with the crisp green flag flying above its
buildings.
The town had changed, even in Zeth's lifetime. There was still a saloon, but
it was no longer part of a ramshackle row of buildings. Now there were neat
shops, a bank, and the magistrate's office at Slina's pen. Three years ago
they had succeeded in getting this end of the Territory declared a county, so
there was now at least nominal law and order. Thetransients who used to gamble
and carouse here, and raid across the border, had been driven to find a new
stamping ground.
Nonetheless, it was a community of killer Simes. Feelings toward Fort Freedom
ranged from sympathy to grudging respect. Either community would rally to
support the other, but the feeling here, even to a child, was entirely
different from the easy give-and-take of life at home.
For these Simes had no Gens living with them in day-today camaraderie.
Slina's Gens were all drugged into complacency, their nagers neither
irritating nor soothing.
Slina was irritated anyway, nervous and edgy even though Zeth could not see
any symptoms of actual need in her. "Well, I'm glad you finally got here!" she
greeted them.
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"Zlin me, Slina," said Veritt. "I'm now technically in need and can legally
claim the boy. Yesterday "
"Shen, I'd've fixed the papers! I wish you'd've took him yesterday. I don't
want that sort of thing here!"
"What sort of thing?" Veritt asked.
"Come on I'll show you."
Slina led them to a holding room where one boy sat alone on the bench. He
jumped up with a smile when Slina entered.
The boy was twelve or thirteen, a head taller than Zeth and as sturdily built
as Owen. He had curly dark brown hair and bright brown eyes obviously
undrugged and alert. He looked them all over curiously, but his engaging smile
was for Slina. It was easy to see why she could not let him be killed.
"He seems completely recovered," Veritt observed, and Zeth realized this must
be the boy the channels had cured of an intestinal infection.
"Yeah he was tearing up the infirmary, so I put him in here till you came.
This morning I thought I'd give him one last dose of fosebine.Watch." Slina
filled a wooden bowl with cloudy fluid and approached the boy. He backed
off,then tried to push the bowl away, screwing up his face.
"Come on, drink it," said Slina. "It's good for you." She grasped the boy's
hands, twining tentacles about them.
"No!" exclaimed the boy, shaking his head. "No, no!"
Slina dropped his hands and backed away, trembling. "That's what he did this
morning. Shen and shid! Ain't never seen one come to life right here! And I
never want to see it again take him out of here, all right?"
"God be praised!" said Mr. Veritt. "He's been undrugged only how long?"
"Nigh three weeks now, but he was so sick the first week he was unconscious
most of the time."
Zeth wasn't surprised. He'd seen a number of pen-grown Gens learn to talk
once released from drugs." 'No' is always their first word," he said.
"So it seems, Zeth," said Mr. Veritt, "but it's usually months before they
speak. Has this boy had special treatment?"
"Not till he took sick," Slina replied. "Just get him out of here, will you,
Abel?"
But the boy wanted to stay. "You've been kind to him," said Veritt as he
pried the boy away from the Gendealer.
"Ain't kindness just protectin' my property. Your propertynow, and your
problem."
Zeth held the chain attached to the boy's collar while Slina made over his
papers to Mr. Veritt. Illestablish, I'll have to come here for papers that say
I'm someone's property. That say I'm not a person. Owen had such papers,
sealed with Slina's dagger-shaped mark.
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Such legalities meant nothing to the people of Fort Freedom but they did to
the Territory Government.So if I'm Sime, I'll be dependent on Gens. And if I'm
Gen, I'll be someone's property unless I want to cross the border.
As they took the new boy out to the horses, Zeth remained buried in his own
thoughts. But the words "Freehand Raiders" caught his attention.
"... over in the west part of the Territory," Slina was saying. "Militia
chased 'em over the border they come back across beyond Ardo Pass, but the
Wild Gens, they don't know Freehand Raiders from any other Simes. They come
swarmin' across 'long about where the Raiders first crossed. Word is, Farris
was hit real hard.''
"Rimon's father ?"
"Oh, he's all right. We'd've heard if anything'd happened to Syrus Farris."
As they tried to get the Gen boy up onto a horse, he began to fight them.
Slina and Mr. Veritt had to overpower him with sheer Sime strength.
"You don't know when you're well off, kid," Slina said, turning to go back
inside. Suddenly, she froze, and Zeth saw Mr. Veritt stiffen at the same time.
Both Simes looked off beyond the western edge of town. Veritt's face crinkled
into a delighted smile. "Owen!"
Sure enough, a large well-laden farm wagon came down the trail as fast as the
big draft horses could pull it. Flash was
tiedbehind the wagon. Zeth let out a whoop of pure joy, kicked his horse, and
galloped to meet his friend.
Owen hit the wagon brake with one foot, and hauled back on the reins. Zeth
dived from his horse onto the wagon seat, hugging Owen and demanding,
"Where've you been? I thought you weren't ever coming back!"
Owen wrapped the reins around the brake and hugged Zeth. "It took longer than
I expected. At first nobody would listen to me, and then everyone wanted to
send presents, and I went to see my uncle " He broke off as Mr. Veritt rode
up. "Abel! What're you all doing in town? Am I glad to see you! I've got to
tell someone! You won't believe what those people think!"
Then he took in the Gen boy with Veritt, still wearing the plain gray pen
smock, and the collar and chain. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd but why'd
you bring Zeth?"
Veritt smiled. "This is a new adoptee, Owen. Now come along home. Everyone is
anxious to hear your adventures."
Owen was as full of news as the wagon was of presents. Stacks of letters
answered the ones he had carried across the border. The Old Fort was full of
tears that evening many of joy, but some of sorrow to learn of deaths or
disappearances. Some who had been sent from Fort Freedom in Farewell
Ceremonies had never reached the Gen community on the other side of the
border.
Later that evening, Zeth's family gathered with Owen's and the Veritts around
the Veritt kitchen table. Owen sat beside Zeth, his fingers wrapped lovingly
around a glass of trin tea. The talk swirled over Zeth's head while he reveled
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in his friend's return the relief leaving him sleepy.
Owen had brought a book for Mr. Veritt from Mountain Chapel's spiritual
leader, Mr. Bron. Abel held it between his hands, idly gazing at his tentacles
gracing the cover. "Owen, I understand this Mr. Bron's problems very well. It
took great courage for him to allow you to speak of Simes as human beings with
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